


Nightmare of Stone and Sand

by Gundarkears57 (jamurdock)



Series: Correlian Journey [2]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:45:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamurdock/pseuds/Gundarkears57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was always disapointed in The Return of the Jedi;  they worked so hard on the special effects that they left the characters go completely shallow.  I am trying to give some depth back.<br/>I also don't think Jabba's Palace should be a cute movie set with jazz singers, christmas lights and blue elephants playing electronic keyboards. It is a dangerous den of thieves and drug lords where death is always close.</p><p>When Han Solo wakes up there blind, helpless and friendless, he has to pull skills from his past to survive.  He may not have any chance at all except for one possible ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. awakening

**Author's Note:**

> The characters in this fiction belong entirely to George Lucas. I've written this piece purely for my own entertainment and for the completely free entertainment of Star Wars fans who appreciate it.

The first thing Han felt was stone hitting him in the face. A rush of sound and sensations assailed him all at once, and he kept his eyes shut as he tried to cope with it. It was overwhelming.

All the neurons in his brain were reactivating at once, reconnecting, demanding that he process and organize all the memories of a lifetime. Childhood memories swirled through his mind at the same time as his peripheral nerves registered the realities of his immediate environment. The hot dryness of the air connected with a recollection of the first time he’d had to steal food to survive on the summer streets of Corellia. The Bothan pipe smoke he smelled connected him to a smoky Cantina on Ord Mantel where he’d won his first Sabacc game.

The memories kept coming at him, lightening fast. He rode the surge, coming at last to his most recent memories: the platform lowering beneath him, Chewbacca howling, Leah’s eyes looking intensely down into his. He’d thought that might be the last thing he ever saw.

But Han was alive. Someone had released him from the carbonite.

He was reluctant to find out whom, and worried that he might even have been trapped in hibernation for years. Would he now find that everyone and everything he had known was gone? Worse, if he was still in his own time, would the friends he had most recently made be gone in any case? Murdered by the Imperials who were their captors the last time he’d seen them? One thing at a time.

Voices surrounded him on all sides. Loud, jeering, laughing voices in several alien languages. He recognized the deep Huttese of Jabba’s voice as one of them. He then discovered that he was totally blind.

He brought his hands up to feel his eyes; yes, they were wide open, but he saw only blackness. He clawed at the stone beneath him, feeling the grit of desert sand that covered it. The smoke and spices in the air, the dry heat, the harsh sand; this was one of Jabba’s many strongholds on Tattoine.

His heart sank. He was a blind prisoner of Jabba the Hutt. This was not good.

Rough hands grabbed him and dragged him upright. His head spun and a wave of nausea rolled over him as he struggled to get his feet under him. Jabba’s voice addressed him:

“So finally we have captured the elusive Captain Solo. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever see you again.”

Han had trouble finding his voice. His body was still in shock, and he kept shuddering uncontrollably, but managed to answer, “Yeah, it’s good to be back, Jabba. Did you miss me?”

There was harsh laughter. “Always so flippant. But that was what made you one of my favorites, Solo. It has been so disappointing trying to run my enterprise without your valuable piloting skills, so disappointing that you lost so much revenue for me and then disappeared rather than pay me back. So very, very disappointing.”

Han thought furiously. “I’m sorry about that, Jabba. I was on my way to repay you, and I got sidetracked. But I haven’t lost my skills, and it doesn’t take a good pilot like me very long to –“

“But you HAVE lost your ship.” Jabba interrupted him. “and if you think I would trust you to make any deliveries for me now you’re a fool.”

The alien hissing and chittering in the room took on a disturbingly predatory feel. The darkness around him seemed to grow darker, and a chill unrelated to hibernation sickness ran down his spine. He knew what was coming. He shook his head,

“I can pay you triple what I owe you--“

“It’s only partly about the money, Solo.”

“Jabba—“

“I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”

The hands holding him suddenly fell away, and a searing pain hit Han in his side. He yelped and spun to face that direction, only to be hit again from behind. He fell to his knees, gasping.

Telurian electrode sticks. They delivered a painful electrical shock, but they also had the temporary effect of disrupting the normal electrochemical signals in the tissues they touched; Han could no longer use his back muscles. If you got hit enough times in enough places, you were rendered immobile. Get hit for long enough, and your heart might just stop beating. Oddly enough, even though one’s muscles were immobilized, the pain receptors in that area kept right on functioning, as a third jab in Han’s back made painfully obvious.

“When I put the word out among my colleagues that you were here I got the most amazing response. You should feel honored at some of the people in attendance, Solo. I had to turn some of them away; I ran out of accommodations. You may remember some of them from your days at the Sabacc tables. They are so very pleased to be here and the odds on you are so very interesting.”

There it was. The Hutts loved nothing so much as a good game of chance, and were especially notorious at setting up high stakes games involving the survival of a person placed in various situations where the odds were against their continued health. Very often it was a method of collecting on a debt. The dice would keep rolling so long as the “mark” had life and spirit, and Jabba would have set it up so the house would generally win. To Han’s recollection, most victims of this process died before their debts were fully paid.

But it went beyond that. The Hutts were ruthless, remorseless creatures, and were known to enjoy the suffering of others, especially those who had run afoul of them. Han was in deeper trouble than he ever had been in his life. And he had never before found himself wishing that he had not been so successful at Sabacc. He began to recognize with a sickening feeling the chortles and snorts of some of the nastier characters he had beaten at the Sabacc tables of his earlier years. They were arguing.

“He’s a puny human. He won’t last thirty seconds.”

“Solo’s stubborn. He’ll put up a fight.”

“He’s nothing without his blaster and his wookie friend. He’ll crumble like a dried up Bantha turd.”

Han jumped to his feet. As soon as he felt another painful jab in his right hip, he spun around and grabbed onto the shaft of the stick that was jabbing him, and kicked desperately at the location he hoped would be a vulnerable area on his attacker. He was rewarded by the scream of his opponent, and dropped and rolled just in time to avoid being hit from the other two guards.

He got to his feet with the stick in his hands, and rushed headlong at the location he was sure was the source of the voices who had been arguing over him…and met abruptly with a force field. The reaction in Jabba’s throne room was explosive. As Han lay dazed and broken by the impact, he could hear applause and jeering, some urging him on, some cursing him.

It had been a calculated risk. Han knew that his only chance at survival was not necessarily to be resourceful, but to be entertaining. If he played it safe but bored the crowd his doom was certain. His foolhardy act had pleased them, however; even the ones who were against him. He might have a chance at occupying this stage again tomorrow even if his performance was nearly over for today, as seemed likely.

The stick was wrenched out of his hands before he could recover himself, and then all three attackers set upon him at once. He screamed, and all sound around him died out.


	2. Leia worries

Leia paced restlessly in her chambers, returning her eyes again and again to the vid-phone, as though this would influence it to ring. Lando and Chewie had left on the Millennium Falcon a week ago, and Luke had followed soon after them. Leia had stayed behind as the best possible person to rally and bring backup personnel and hardware if they were needed. Mon Mothma would not like that. Not at all. 

Leia had not yet made any such request. She knew as well as Mothma did that the Alliance could not afford to spare any resources on the rescue of one man, even one as valuable as Han had been. And Leia was not so blinded by her feelings not to realize that Han was not seen by the Alliance as a committed member of the cause. Indeed, Han had never made any formal or even informal promise to them. He had just…stayed. And helped. And saved Luke’s life. And hers. Several times.

She hoped Lando and Luke would find that they could rescue Han from Jabba without having to launch an attack on the Hutts. Their control of Tattoine was well entrenched, and since the Empire had increased its crackdown against any free enterprise, particularly of non-human species, the Hutts had been forced underground. So Han would not be easy to find. And any attack on a Hutt stronghold could be an expensive one, perhaps even resulting in Han’s death, anyway.

Much better to go through underground channels and use a con to fool a con. At least that was what Lando thought. Luke had agreed that the best course of action would be to make Jabba an offer that would be good enough to influence him to keep Han alive and well until a trade could be arranged. But they had to find him first, and the whole negotiation process would take time. Time Han probably did not have. All of them knew, though none of them had spoken it, how dangerous Han’s situation was in the hands of an enraged Hutt gang lord. Leia clutched at the back of the chair she was leaning against, shoved it away from herself and began pacing again.

The vid-phone rang. She practically leapt onto it. Luke’s face appeared.

“Hello Leia,”   
“Thank god. What have you found out?”  
“Lando’s been looking up some of his old contacts. So far we don’t know much, except that Jabba doesn’t like people knowing where he is at any one time.”  
Leia took in a deep breath, “Do you know the locations of any of his strongholds?”  
“Lando and Chewie know three of them, but there are rumored to be more than twenty.”  
Leia closed her eyes. It really did seem hopeless. “So what are you going to do now?”  
“Chewie and I are going to check the ones we know of one by one. Hopefully by that time Lando will be able to infiltrate the underground and we’ll know more.” Luke looked at her compassionately. Leia was still staggered at how much he had changed since their desperate escape from Hoth. Something in Luke’s eyes had aged, even far beyond his present young years. He hadn’t been willing to tell her where he’d been during those harrowing weeks she and Han had spent dodging Darth Vader’s star destroyers. But she knew something profound had happened to Luke.  
“Don’t lose hope, Leia.”  
Leia smiled sadly. “I won’t. I just wish I could do something to help.”  
“You are helping. As soon as we know our course of action, we’ll come back for you and the droids and we’ll all do this together. In the meantime, the best thing you can do for us is be our liaison in case we really do have to do this by force. Okay?”  
“By force…” she drifted a moment, then added “would the Force help you to find Han, Luke? It helped me to find you didn’t it?”  
Luke looked thoughtful for a moment. A distant look crossed his face, then he answered, “Interesting thought, Leia. But there were other factors at work then that aren’t in our favor now. For one thing it would only work if Han were Force sensitive.”  
Luke’s words took a moment to sink in.  
“Luke, are you saying that I am Force sensitive?”  
Luke had been looking off-screen, but now he focused his clear blue eyes fully into Leia’s. “Yes, Leia I believe you are. But I think we’d best finish this conversation another time. For now, keep your mind and feelings open. If you can feel or hear Han in any way, let me know about it when I call again in two days.”  
“All right,” but her mind was not all right. It was full of questions, and it was hard to end this call.” Be careful, Luke.”  
He signed off.

She walked over to her bunk, and laid down on it, propping her head against some cushions so she could see the slowly moving star field outside her window. The fleet was traveling at sub light speeds now, not in a hurry to be anywhere, but anxious to go undetected. Every other week they would travel by light speed to some other remote corner of the galaxy and travel through that area for a while, never occupying the same quadrant twice. They had lost many people and resources on Hoth, and it was a time of rebuilding. Plans were forming, and they continued to gain allies, mostly thanks to Emperor Palpatine’s xenophobia. His brutality to non-humans made these alien races very easy to recruit to the Alliance, although it took time to gather the scattered strength of hundreds of alien worlds…

Just like it would take time to find Han. She thought of the assignment Luke had given her; keep her mind and feelings open. Is that what Luke had learned to do during all that time? She tried to remember how it felt to “hear” Luke inside her head as they had been fleeing Bespin, when he had called out to her in desperation, and told her precisely, with his mind, where he was. Could she connect with Han in the same way?

She had her doubts. Han had always been cynical about the Force. But if a person were desperate enough, could their thoughts become audible to the ones who loved them most?

She stared out at the stars. They activated a bittersweet memory.


	3. A memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a long voyage from the Hoth Asteroid belt to Bespin.

Han’s final ruse to fool the Imperials into thinking their hyperdrive had abruptly become functional had been impressive. Hidden in plain sight on the back of a shield generator of the very star destroyer that had been pursuing them, they had planned a course for Bespin, the planet that was the source of fuel and economic income for Cloud City. Without light speed, they knew it would take the Millennium Falcon weeks to arrive there. 

It was a great relief, finally breaking away from the star destroyer’s hull as it jettisoned its garbage and disappeared into hyperspace. Han flashed Leia an “I told you so” smile. She smiled back, conceding the moment. He didn’t press the point any further, and silently returned his attention to his ship. She couldn’t help smiling to herself a little at the absurdity of her situation. In a starship that was such a mish mash of spare parts soldered together that it successfully passed for Imperial garbage, she was about to embark on a journey that would take several weeks with a Wookie, an excitable android, and a maddeningly impulsive pilot. Han’s unsettlingly direct gaze and speech were threatening to undo every idea she’d ever had about what a good man, a “nice” man, should be like. If he hadn’t obviously tried so hard to get her to her own transport ship back on Hoth before the Imperials invaded their base, she might have thought he had planned all this.

She sat in the copilot chair, watching Han quietly as he made small adjustments to the Falcon’s trajectory, and checked star charts that would show their safest pathway to the Bespin system. She wondered, not for the first time in these last few months, what it was that truly motivated Han. She still remembered sitting in this very chair a few years ago after Luke and Han had rescued her from the Death Star, and hearing him speak like a cold blooded mercenary: “I’m not in this for your revolution, sweetheart. I expect to be well paid. I’m only interested in one cause: me.” And yet again and again he had put himself at risk for them. She couldn’t detect that he really believed in their cause. He’d never lead any of their assaults directly, but he was always on hand in the planning rooms. His observations and ideas were invaluable, and the leaders often implemented some form of Han’s advice. And though he would never accept a formal officer’s commission, the rebel pilots, especially the younger ones, constantly looked to him for guidance. She had seen them following him through the hangar bays, everyone from the squad leaders to the greenest rookies, listening to his every word. He and Chewie often went out on patrols with them, especially if Luke was flying. Leia knew there was hardly a young pilot still with the Alliance who didn’t owe his life to Han Solo.

So she had been angry when he’d decided to leave them. It seemed an unforgivable waste to her, to withdraw his help from them when they needed him the most in order to fly off and repay an old smuggling debt. So many people had come to trust him and rely on him. There were so many lives at stake, so many worlds at risk, so much good he could do…

But she stopped that line of thought. She had taken on the responsibility of all those lives, but it wasn’t fair to lay that on Han. And a deeper part of her knew he was right about one thing; She wasn’t just angry about him leaving them, she was angry about him leaving her. She couldn’t deny that she was thinking about Han differently than she had been before. He was the only man she had ever met who would look her right in the eye and tell her, often rather insensitively, exactly what she was thinking. As irritating as this was, there was something strangely appealing about a man who understood her so well. This brought her back to the disconcerting reality of being trapped with this man for the next few weeks in a small modified freighter with very limited cabin space.

Chewbacca’s inquisitive bark interrupted her thoughts, and Han jumped up from his chair. 

“Yeah, take over Chewie. I’m gonna go rustle up some grub.” He turned to her, “you hungry?”  
She nodded. They looked at Threepio. Han had switched him off just before their escape from the destroyer. “I suppose we should turn him back on now.” Han reached behind the golden robot’s head and flipped a switch. Threepio’s eyes lit back up, and he whirred back to life.

“—sure the Empire could be persuaded to be merciful in such a case as this—oh my! What happened?”

“We escaped.” Replied Han dryly. “Come on Threepio, I’ve got a job for you.”

“We escaped! Sir that is amazing. The odds against our escaping that situation were astronomical. However did you manage…” She could hear Han sigh heavily as he walked away with Threepio doddering along behind him.

After a while they gathered to eat in a room off the galley that was new to Leia. There were three large comfortable looking chairs there, and a view window looking out on the stars. In front of the chairs there was a long, low table where Han and Chewie placed steaming bowls of what looked like nerf stew. It smelled wonderful. Leia looked at Han with surprise,

“Is this real nerf?”  
Han nodded, “It’s the last of a supply I had in my freezer from a visit I made to Corellia some years back. The vegetables are reconstituted, though.”

It was their first real meal in days, and it was more nourishing than the military rations they’d been forced to live on during the long months on Hoth, where growing food had been impossible. Han had even opened a small bottle of Selonian wine and poured each of them a glass. The food and wine warmed and relaxed her; she hadn’t realized until then how tense she had been.

Chewie left to take the first watch in the cockpit, Threepio dutifully cleared away their dishes, and all at once, Han and Leia were alone.

She could feel his eyes on her as she sipped the last of her wine. Suddenly Leia felt exhausted. The small naps she had managed to take on this ship had been few in the endless hours since their adventure began. She sensed that he had moved closer to her. She kept her eyes on her empty wine glass, and tried to formulate the words that would allow her to beg off and go find an empty bunk to curl up in without offending him.

“I should thank you.” She said.  
He sounded bemused, ”Why? For the fancy flying or the fancy cooking?”  
She couldn’t help smiling, “both.”  
His voice softened,” well, you’re welcome.” He reached for her wine glass and took it from her hands, placing it on the table. Then he gently turned her face towards his. She didn’t resist, but she could feel herself tensing up again. She was too tired to deal with this; what she was or wasn’t feeling, what she should or should not be allowing... But Han’s eyes regarded her gently.

“How long has it been since you slept?”

Damnit if he wasn’t doing it again.

“Awhile.” She said.

“Come on.” He took her hands and helped her to her feet, leading her from the room.

“Where are we going?” He didn’t answer, but lead her through the corridors of the Falcon to one of the larger doors in the bulkhead.

“Han, this is your cabin.”

He shook his head, “As long as you’re on my ship, Leia, this is your cabin.”  
She understood him, but still stiffened as the door slid open.  
“Don’t worry. I cleaned.”

He walked in ahead of her. The room was small but efficient, and surprisingly neat. A large bunk was set into one wall beneath a small porthole. A fresher opened opposite, and a long narrow desk with a computer console occupied the third wall. An imbedded shelf held a row of booktapes, mostly about celestial navigation and the geography of various systems. Han had opened a cupboard back in one corner, and now drew out several folded items of clothing. 

“If you get tired of wearing the clothes you have on, these may fit you.” She looked at the items, noting their style was definitely feminine. She looked inquisitively at him. He shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. “They belonged to a female charter passenger I had once.”

Leia raised an eyebrow, “Charter passenger?”

“Yep.” He was stuffing some of his own items into a carisack. Leia looked at him doubtfully as he stood to face her.

“Han, I can’t—“  
“Would you rather bunk in with Chewie?”  
“I could sleep in the sick bay—“  
“You wouldn’t have any privacy there. This is going to be a long trip.”  
She’d run out of energy for the argument. He stepped forward, kissed the top of her head, and headed for the door. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.” And he was gone.

She’d had just enough energy to remove her boots and jacket before crawling into Han’s bunk. She’d been asleep within minutes.  
* * *

The stars continued on by. Leia now remembered all the things Han had done to take care of her during that trip, and before it. She’d never been very appreciative. She hoped she would have the chance to make it up to him. She closed her eyes, and tried to reach out with her feelings as Luke had suggested. Where are you, Han? She concentrated hard, We’re looking for you. You’re not alone…


	4. sleep deprivation gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what dreams may come...

Han wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone exactly where he was even if he had the chance. He knew Jabba had many bases of operation on Tattoine. But the entire planet was a desert. One Huttese palace on this planet would be so similar to all the others that telling them apart from the inside would be difficult even for their more permanent residents. And Han had seen only a limited part of the interior.

He sat on the floor of a small stone cell built into the upper ramparts of the stronghold. Everything was backwards on this desert planet. Jabba’s dungeons were built at the top of his palace where the heat was the greatest, while the lower chambers where it was cooler were reserved for Jabba and his staff. The hierarchy went inversely downward. This also applied to the use of daylight. The denizens of the desert had the tendency to do much of their living, and in the case of this palace, reveling, at night. This came to the end result of Han presently sitting in what he had finally determined to be the coolest corner of his cell, which baked at the mercy of Tattoine’s twin suns. A heavily barred window near the ceiling allowed him to see the sky, as he rested his head against the coolest place he could find on the stone.

They would be coming for him soon. He had worked out the timing of the trajectory of a single spot of light that traveled slowly across the wall opposite him. When it reached a certain crag in the rock, the large metal door would be wrenched open, the guards would come in and drag him down to Jabba’s throne room for some new form of torment. 

At least his eyesight had returned. A mixed blessing.

They had taken full advantage of Han’s blindness, pitting him against guards wielding more Telurian electrode sticks, or other fierce aliens who were prisoners themselves, who lunged at him with the assorted weapons they were naturally armed with. Bets had been placed, and the dice had rolled. Han had kept his wits, made jokes, and survived. He was battered and bruised, but he wasn’t permanently damaged. Yet.

He tried to sleep. They hadn’t given him much water or food, and what they did allot him was questionable. He had been able to charm several of the female aliens in attendance, winning the occasional bite of fruit, or sip of wine. He tried to avoid taking a drink from the dirty container of warm water they set in his cell. The last thing he needed was to pick up an intestinal infection. He had a sick feeling that at some point he might get desperate enough to try it. It was so hot. Sweat covered him, and he knew the dehydration would only grow worse.

He was trying, against his own nature, to be optimistic. He was the best smuggler Jabba had. Imperial cruisers were increasingly ruining Jabba’s business. Han could still be valuable as one of the only pilots who was capable of out-maneuvering pursuing ships and getting the shipments of priceless spices through to Jabba’s black market customers. Lord knew he’d had enough practice evading Imperial ships lately. Few of the other people in this place had the inside knowledge Han had of Imperial procedures. If he could last long enough to placate Jabba’s primal need for revenge, and fill Jabba’s pockets with enough gambling winnings against his own hide, he might be granted another chance.

The great metal door finally came open with a sickening grind. Han had already tried testing the door and window, and gotten painful jolts from the magnetic fields protecting them. Two guards entered and came at him, each grabbing an arm.

* * *

Jabba’s throne room was a decadent place, even by Hutt standards. His people, the ones who kept his business running, came there to relax once in a while, but were not in attendance that often, or Jabba would not have been as successful as he was. His clients and prospective clients were the ones there most often, and these were truly the scum of the Universe. Making their currency off of the sale of addictive spices to as many planetary systems as they could do business with, they came to Jabba’s palace to enjoy the particular decadent forms of entertainment that Jabba favored. 

Even Jabba’s fellow Hutts had difficulty understanding Jabba’s particular interest in the pleasures of the humanoid form. He loved to watch the human females dance, and enjoyed the softness and variability of their bodies. His current slave female was adequate, although she was not human, but a Twi-lek. Her skin was as soft as a human’s, even though it was green, and the two long, sensitive tentacles that hung down from the back of her head added interest to her movements.

Her name was Ulee. She’d been sold to Jabba a year ago in Mos Eisley. A small but efficacious silver chain hung from a leather collar around her neck. She tried daily, as Han did, to be optimistic.

They were bringing him in now. He was doing better than most of them did; he seemed to understand how this game was played. But he looked thinner and paler than he had yesterday. It must be hard to sleep in those upper dungeon rooms…

Today they were going to start him in the sleep deprivation chamber. Most of them did not survive this. She hated watching it. 

They led Han to what looked like a simple cage with very thin bars almost wide apart enough for a person to slide through them. But this was deceptive. The wires carried live electric current at high voltage levels. There was not enough room to bend or sit down inside the cage’s boundaries without touching one of the deadly wires. Han’s hands were bound behind his back, he was pushed inside, and the current was turned on. Ulee listened as he made a joke about Jabba’s electric bill, and could he really afford this. Laughter ensued. The bets were placed. The reveling continued, and Han was all but forgotten. 

He seemed so calm. Only a slight glint in his eyes betrayed his awareness of his own peril. He did not waste energy begging to be let out. Time went by. 

Music was requested and she was required to dance. It was the one part of her captivity she could tolerate, even enjoy. It was the only time she felt close to being free. She moved to the music, leaping in the air, arcing her arms with her chain in her hands. Turning, her head using Han as her focal point of a spinning step, she finally noticed that he was looking at her.

As her dance ended, and Jabba drew her back to her unpleasant position at his adipose-ridden flanks, she looked back at Han. He was regarding her with curious interest. He was a handsome human. And unlike most of the people she had seen here, he had intelligence in his eyes. She looked away. It was folly to become involved, to care in the least about the outcome of this. Ulee was a sensitive creature, and this, she knew, was a great disadvantage in this room.

Morning light was creeping down the throne room stairs. Jabba’s guests began to retire to their private chambers, or collapsed and slept on the couches where they were. Jabba was retiring to his sleep chamber, and Ulee went with him to rest on her own cot and try to sleep as the great Hutt lord snored mightily. She looked back at the human. He still stood in the wired chamber. His chin now rested on his chest, but he looked rock solid. The only sign that he might be feeling fatigue was a slight tremble that Ulee could see in his right leg…


	5. Another memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> love scene between Han and Leia  
> sorry, no smut. I am more cerebral than I am visceral.  
> But it's very sweet.

Han had gone without sleep plenty of times. He had even endured a training program where they had subjected him and his fellow cadets to exactly this kind of test. But that hadn’t included a threat of electrocution if you happened to doze off.

He knew his limits, roughly. He knew not to lock his knees, and to keep his feet slightly apart and flat on the ground. He knew to stay calm, not panic, or become claustrophobic. He knew it would be best to keep his mind as active as possible.

He knew he probably wouldn’t be able to last much beyond 55 hours. 

Han had learned many alien languages when he was a boy. As a result, he’d been able to understand enough of the betting to have heard that a particular prominent Batarckan had waged 12,000 standard credits that Han could not last beyond 60 hours. Jabba would want to collect on that one. Han was not sure he’d be able to deliver.

The hours went by so slowly. He’d been successful so far at not drawing attention to himself. He didn’t want them getting any ideas of how to make this worse for him. The Batarckan’s bet was to his advantage in one way; Jabba would want Han to survive the 60 hours, and would not make his situation worse for the moment.

At least it was cool here. And quiet. He took a deep breath, stretching his spine carefully. He wondered for the hundredth time where Leia, Chewie and Luke might be now, if they were even alive. He’d found out enough through listening to be reassured that he had only lost a few weeks in the carbonite at most. Luke had been on his way to Bespin, last he knew. Leia had guessed that she and Han were being used as bait, because Vader wanted Luke. 

Why would Vader want Luke? Had he become too powerful a symbol for the Alliance? Was Luke’s mystique causing trouble on Imperially controlled systems? It seemed unlikely that so much firepower and hardware would be devoted to catching him while the rest of the Allied fleet escaped. The entire Imperial fleet had been after him and Leia, and all to capture Luke. Vader was the Emperor’s best Lieutenant. Why spend all that energy on a kid?

And how had Luke even known they were in trouble, or where to come and find them? And he’d found them awfully quickly, as though he’d started out before he and Leia even knew they’d been betrayed. There was something mysterious going on there that Han did not understand. 

Leia. He did not want to think about the possibility of her being an Imperial prisoner. 

The pain in his back and legs brought him back to the present. The cage hummed ominously around him. It was dangerous to think negatively. Best to try to stay positive, think of something more pleasant.

* * *

He’d been in the galley brewing hot caf when he’d seen her walk by in the corner of his eye. He’d done a double take. Something was different. He poked his head out of the galley door to look.

She’d stepped down into the lounge cabin and approached the view window to gaze, arms folded, at the stars. She’d put on one of Lanni’s outfits. It was just a flight suit, but it was made of a deep red fabric with brown piping trim, and it had been made to fit a woman’s body. It suited Leia well. It was nice to see her in something besides the bulkier snow gear that had been all she had escaped with from Hoth. He noticed she’d changed her hair as well. The thick utilitarian braid that had encircled her head was undone and her rich dark hair was now drawn into a soft bun on the top of her head. A single, tiny braid wound elegantly around it. The graceful slope of Leia’s neck was now visible, and the fine red collar brought out red highlights in Leia’ hair and skin that Han had never noticed before.

She turned to see him staring.

“What?” she said.  
One side of Han’s mouth curved upwards.  
“You look nice.”  
She blushed slightly, turning back to the window. “Thanks. Is breakfast ready?”  
“Comin’ up.”

They had been traveling towards Bespin for two weeks now, and a daily routine had taken shape. Han always made breakfast. He was actually a pretty good cook, having had to learn to fend for himself for many years as an independent smuggler. After they ate Chewie would go to his cabin to get some sleep, having taken the night shift in the cockpit. Han would take over there, splitting his time during the “day” between monitoring their flight path, performing small repairs around the ship, and other therapeutic activities available on the Falcon that Han had always relied on to help him keep in good mental and physical shape during prolonged space travel. The Falcon’s computer data banks included a sizable library of the galaxy’s literature, music and mentally stimulating games. There was also a physical conditioning room with a small treadmill and weight machine that offered resistance and endurance training. Han had always disciplined himself to spend at least 30 minutes a day in there, especially while he was in space. This trip, Princess or no Princess, was no exception.

Leia had mostly kept to her cabin during the first two days, and Han had left her alone. He had tipped his hand already, rather brazenly, and he sensed she might be worried that he would press his advantage in their current close quarters. For reasons he did not completely understand himself, he didn’t want her to feel that way. There had been plenty of other women in the past who hadn’t received any such consideration from him, but Leia was different. He wanted Leia to trust him. In any case, he thought he understood her well enough to know that he would never get anywhere with her if she didn’t.

In the last few days Leia had slowly begun to emerge from her cabin. She began appearing in the cockpit to keep him company, assisting with repairs, and offering herself as a chess opponent. She was very good at Chess. He had not been able to beat her once yet in the 6 games they had played. As the evenings drew on Leia had turned up in the galley and helped Han put meals together, until he had finally conceded, with Chewie in strong concurrence, that Leia was the better cook, and left her entirely to it. She seemed pleased to be able to contribute.

When Han had first met Leia he had believed her to be what she had first seemed to be: a spoiled Princess. It had become evident as time went by that this first impression was not entirely correct. It had not escaped his notice that she had gone out of her way to make herself useful to him and Chewie on this trip. She’d been critical of the viability of the Falcon more than once, but when the chips were down Leia had been there with tools in her hands, helping him put his ship back together. He’d seen the same willingness to do whatever needed to be done, however menial and without complaint, in every situation they had ever shared. He had watched Leia relieve exhausted technicians and take over their posts herself, then go straight to a leaders meeting without rest that would last for hours, and remain lucid and effective. She was always so focused and never seemed to lose faith in this cause against the Empire, which to Han’s jaded mind seemed an unlikely one. But she wouldn’t let up. It almost made him believe the Alliance might win. It certainly made him curious.

He was still amazed at her stubborn refusal to leave the command center on Hoth as the frozen ceiling threatened to collapse on top of her. She just would not quit. He had never met a woman who hated losing more than he did.

But now as they spent increasingly more time together, Han was finding things out about Leia that intrigued him even more. They had taken to spending time after dinner each evening in the lounge cabin, at first to pass the time at different games. He’d felt slightly vindicated to find that although she surpassed him at chess, she had not yet been able to beat him at Sabacc. But lately they’d found themselves doing more talking than paying real attention to the games they played. They suddenly had time to ask each other questions they’d wondered about. 

She was an orphan, like him. Once they both realized this, their trust in each other increased enough for other stories to flow. He told her enough about his childhood, what he remembered of it, to explain his facility with alien languages, including Wookese. She listened intently as he described how he had first met Chewbacca, his visceral reaction to the Wookies’ enslavement, and how his actions had cost him his naval commission. She had heard him tell bits and pieces of this tale before, but she had never known the details, or had perhaps doubted its validity. Now a strange expression crossed her features as she listened to him. He couldn’t be certain, but it seemed as though her impression of him might be changing.

There was something special about this evening. All day as Han had gone through his routines he’d found himself looking for her, and if he saw her he couldn’t keep himself from looking at her, at least until she turned to look back. He was almost certain he’d caught her doing the exact same thing at least once.

Dinner tasted good. Leia had found a set of Alderanian spices that Han had never been sure how to use; she had used them expertly to season a mixture of thick, starchy Bothan tubers and reconstituted greens. Although Chewie bemoaned the lack of meat, even he was happy enough to finish his entire portion, and nearly lost control of his manners in his temptation to lick his plate clean.

When they were finally alone, and were deciding between Chess and Sabacc, Han reached up to a wall panel shelf that held some recorded files, and selected one. He turned it over in his hands a few times, and then placed it on the low table in front of her. Leia looked at it curiously, and then looked up at Han in amazement.  
“You have Alderanian music in your files?”  
“Would you like to hear it?”  
She picked up the file, tracing the title and symbols on the surface of the tape. She handed it to him, nodding.  
Han activated a console set into one wall that pulled the recording and began to play it. “Chewie and I were on Alderaan more than once to pick up shipments. We were relaxing in one of the smaller cantinas in Taranaan when this small troupe got up to perform. The lead singer had a nice voice, so I bought a tape.”

They listened in silence for a moment. It was a beautiful melody played on various pipes, and sung not in Basic but in one of the original ancient languages of the planet. Leia’s face seemed to transform as she heard it, going through surprise, then wonder, and finally something that began to look alarmingly like deep sadness. Not having anticipated this, Han made a move towards the console,

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have played this. I’ll turn it off.”  
But she stopped him, “No, leave it on.”  
He looked at her. She was curled up on a couch, her arms folded around her knees, looking past him at some distant memory. That was something that Han did not have in common with Leia. No one had ever blown his home planet up. It occurred to him that he really should not wonder at all at Leia’s determination to win this war. 

He took a seat on another couch. 

“I’ve always been curious about how you managed to learn to be so skilled with a blaster when you were raised on a planet that has no weapons.”

She smiled and unfolded her arms to reach for the cup of caf on the table in front of her. It was good to see her smile. “Bale Organa walked a very thin line. He was a true Alderaanian and believed in the planet’s policy of general disarmament. But he also knew that war was coming, and he was one of the main organizers of a fully armed rebellion.” Her eyes became distant again. “I had been through my diplomatic training, and I was privy to much of what he was doing. I think he knew that when war came, I would be in the middle of it. He was very protective of me.”

“…So he let you practice in secret.”

She nodded. “One evening I went to his chambers and asked for permission, and he gave it. I remember I was actually surprised that he agreed so quickly. I was sixteen. I guess that’s when I realized this war was really going to happen. It was sobering.”

She looked at him. There was a peculiar smile on her face.

“What?” He said.  
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not used to this.”  
“Not used to what?”  
She stood up and went to lean against the view window. “You. I’m not used to you being so well…behaved.”  
Han couldn’t believe it, and barely stopped himself from laughing out loud. He got to his feet and moved towards her with a mock swagger in his step, “Well all right Your Highness,” he said. She looked a bit flustered, her eyes regarding him warily. He came close to her, tipping his head to one side, softening his voice.  
“How do you want me to behave?”  
She was blushing beautifully. But her eyes looked seriously up at him.  
“Why did you stay with the Alliance for so long, Han?”  
The question caught him only partially off guard.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You don’t really believe in what we’re doing, so why did you stay?”  
He refused to be distracted. He looked down at her, his eyes twinkling.  
“How do you know what I believe?”  
“Because you said so once.”  
“Did I do that?”  
Her eyes flashed in frustration, “Stop answering my questions with questions!”  
He stepped in close. “Then stop asking me questions you already know the answers to.”  
She looked at him, and he looked directly back, unblinking. Her eyes were wide and bright. The different possible meanings of his words seemed to be playing across her mind. Han had had enough of all this pussyfooting around. He reached out and took her hands, drawing her close. When he leaned forward, she met him halfway.

The kiss was long and deep, like a drought of water following a great thirst. He could feel her arms winding tightly around him, and he responded in kind, pulling her even closer. When he finally pulled back they regarded each other in a kind of quiet mutual wonder. His hand had migrated to the nape of her neck. The loose curls of her hair were unbelievably soft, and he kissed her again, this time harder, pressing her body up against the bulkhead of the Falcon. She gasped as his mouth found her throat. He could feel the humming of his ship. A strange heat was rising in his forehead, throbbing in his temples…  
* * *  
Han jerked himself violently awake, micrometers from the deadly current flowing through the wire of the sleep deprivation chamber he was standing in, the one he had nearly fallen asleep in. 

His heart thumped in his chest and he gasped, trembling from the shock of the near miss. He’d been so close. He blinked painfully, his tired eyes taking in the dimly lit chamber beyond his cage, the ornate tables and couches, the smell of various types of inebriants and spices, the dark forms of sleeping aliens in the corners. The light from the throne room windows was beginning to fade; they would be waking up and returning soon. He guessed he was about at the thirty hour point. 

He tried to stretch and breathe deeply. His hands being tied behind his back made things even more difficult as the hours ticked on. He was having a harder and harder time keeping his balance, and without his arms free to make small corrections, the danger of falling sideways into the humming wires increased. The pain in his back and legs was so bad now that he almost wished it was over and done with, that he’d zapped himself into the welcome oblivion of that memory…

Even though it hadn’t exactly ended the way he had hoped it would. 

He remembered now. Leia had pulled away from him yet again. He’d let her go, but couldn’t help asking her why. He’d never forget the look on her face, as if she couldn’t believe he could be so dim, but he could swear there’d been regret there, too: “Aren’t you going to be leaving me the moment you deliver me back to the Alliance? What can any of this possibly mean?”

Han was not accustomed to thinking very far ahead when it came to women. This statement had hit him hard, and it had taken up much of his thoughts in the following days. If there was a woman in the galaxy who could inspire him to think past two or three months, Leia was the one. He hadn’t seen much of her those last few days before they landed on Bespin, and he’d actually been relieved. He really wasn’t sure how to behave around her at this point, and he needed time to regroup. Apparently she felt the same way.

 

When the sixty hour point came, Han was only vaguely aware of it. His experience of Jabba’s throne room had become a blur of voices and images, and the very occasional welcome relief of a drink of water or weak broth from a cup held out to him on an insulated extendable arm. 

The one voice that did penetrate the fog that was growing around him was the slave dancer’s voice. Twice she had called out to him just as he’d been about to collapse, and had roused him enough so that he caught himself. And there was something else, very strange. He could swear that he’d felt something around him, like a cushion of air almost, protecting him when he had lost his balance badly once or twice. He’d been sure he was dead, but something had pushed him back just enough for him to right himself. When he’d looked at the girl during those times, her eyes had been tight shut and her hands had been out in front of her as if she were pushing against something. 

His condition was miserable. In the last hours his legs had been shaking so badly he’d been forced to lock his knees, and he’d slowly lost feeling in his feet and calves. This made it comparable to having to balance on stilts. He strained desperately to keep still and not allow his aching upper body to sway into a tilt he could no longer correct. Remaining flippant and entertaining had become almost impossible, but he’d managed a few wise cracks, hopefully enough to earn a rest once Jabba won his bet.

He could hear and feel the energy in the room shifting, the uproar as the Bakurian lost and was forced to pay up, thunderous applause and cheering, and then suddenly the humming was gone. As soon as Han felt the rough hands of Jabba’s guards, he let himself fall, not caring anymore what surface he might land on so long as he no longer had to support his own weight.


	6. A plan is hatched

Leia was running. Luke’s X wing had just docked with the Allied cruiser The Defiance, and she wanted to be the first person he saw.

The dark flight suit he wore was discolored with sand and dust, and he looked tired. His face brightened when she came to him.

“Tell me,” she said, breathlessly.  
“We’ve found him. Lando’s sending in a spy to give us information. She’s not in place yet,” Luke said quickly, anticipating Leia’s question,” It’s very difficult to get in to Jabba’s current location right now. He has some kind of high stakes game of chance going on and only the most elite underworld gamblers are allowed entrance.”  
Leia nodded. Well, Lando would be a good person to infiltrate that environment.  
Luke continued. “Lando is suggesting we pose as a small group of Trafalgians. He’s liquidating one of his fortunes to convert it into Trafalgian gemstones. Apparently Jabba has a particular liking for them.”  
“Has he contacted Jabba’s people with an offer yet?”

“Yes, but it’s going to take some time, and in the meantime we need to find a Trafalgian ship. We’re not going to be able to pull of the hoax in the Falcon, she’s too recognizable. And if Jabba doesn’t fully believe in the trade, if he thinks he’s being played, he might send bounty hunters after Han all over again out of spite.”

Leia nodded, thinking. Unfortunately the Trafalgians were not part of the Alliance, so it would not be a simple thing to procure a ship. The contacts they had made with them so far had taught them that the species was highly mercenary, and unless it became profitable for them to fight the Empire, they would not join them. They had not appreciated Emperor Palpatine’s trade embargos against any nonhuman legitimate business, but since much of their present trade was black market, they had not been willing to risk involvement.

They were extremely skilled starship builders, and many of the fighting ships the Alliance had in their arsenal had come from Trafalgia. Trafalgians were known for being almost obsessive in their attention and demand for exact detail in their ship building and in their trade agreements. This had advantages and disadvantages for them if they were to take on Trafalgian identities. Jabba would believe in Trafalgian interest in a pilot as skilled as Han was at evading Imperial ships, and he would believe in Trafalgians being wealthy enough to afford a high price. In addition, they were a nonhuman species who had evolved to breath the sulfurous gases on their home planet, so when they went off system they could only interact with M class citizens by wearing masks that delivered the mixture of gases their bodies required. Lando had made a good choice; disguising themselves would be a simple matter.

The disadvantages were that Trafalgians, although they would build and sell any kind of ship a client requested, were notoriously tight fisted about their own technology. No one had ever been able to get access to a complete, functioning Trafalgian starship. It was rumored that their ships had capabilities and utilized types of fuel that made them faster, more maneuverable and cheaper to maintain then any other type of ship in the galaxy. Perhaps they would be able to put a ship together that resembled one of their ships enough to perpetrate this exchange. They would need to find the parts. It was possible that Leia might be able to call in a favor from a very old acquaintance, assuming he was still alive…

The final disadvantage of trying to masquerade as Trafalgians was that if the prize they were trading for were damaged in any way, a true Trafalgian would walk away from a deal even if it was all but sealed. If Han was hurt or limping or seen to be anything less than the coveted hot shot pilot of the galaxy, the operation would be in jeopardy. The hope was that Jabba would know this, and if he cared enough about getting the gemstones, would make some effort to ensure that Han was in decent shape before the exchange took place. The illusion had to be perfect, or Luke was right. Han would go right back to being the hunted man he’d been before.

They had work to do.

 

Ulee had allowed herself to feel elation as she watched them carry the captain out of the electrified chamber exhausted, but unharmed. They would let him alone for awhile now, so he would have strength for their next game. Her efforts on his behalf had been a terrible risk. She had never before used her abilities so openly. If she had been caught, there could have been real trouble. But luckily all eyes had been on Han. The crowd had seethed with excitement at the suspense of the human teetering and swaying tantalizingly close to death, and then miraculously recovering at the last second. Dice rolled, arguments flared, and the reveling continued. No one had paid the green slave girl with her body contorted in concentration any attention—not even Jabba.

Ulee had never understood the source of her powers. Her home planet Ryloth was a remote system, and had never been involved enough with the Old Republic to have known of the Jedi or the Force. She had never met anyone else who could do the things she could do. She had learned as a child to hide her power, as it had only seemed to cause trouble when anyone noticed it. She had learned only to use it sparingly, in situations where its effects could not be traced to her. When she had been captured by a slaving ship and brought here, she had not been able to use it to free herself; her power was not great enough for that. But she had been able to do small things to increase her comfort. This was the first time she had ever tried to increase the comfort of another person. 

It had felt right. The human captain was a good man, she was certain of it. She had a strange feeling that he would survive this. She decided to do what she could to help him.

But the next time they brought him in, she wondered if her feeling had been false.


	7. Impossible Pain

The worst part of all this was knowing that whatever they were going to do to him, Han couldn’t stop them. It did no good to waste energy bargaining and it was far beneath Han’s pride to ask for mercy. These creatures would merely feed on that and his situation would be the worse for it. So he tried to keep a level head, and deal with what came as stoically as possible. And he kept watch for anything that might prove valuable later…

That slave girl, for instance. 

Han hated slavery. It made him sick to see an obviously intelligent being like this young Twil-ek forced to serve as vile a creature as Jabba. In his earlier years working as one of Jabba’s pilots he did not recall Jabba keeping slaves; his female entertainers were free to come and go, and were well paid. This slave girl was a mark of his further descent into depravity.

He had to admit she played her role wisely. He had watched as she did everything Jabba commanded her to do. She danced for him, served him food, massaged his great torso in the places his pathetically short arms could not reach, and allowed him to paw at her body with his stubby hands. At least he couldn’t really violate her more than that. But it turned Han’s stomach anyway. He vowed to himself, if he made it out of here, he would find a way to free her. Not the least because he was almost certain she had somehow saved his life already, more than once. And also because their eyes had met enough times for him to understand that she was the only friend he had in this room. Possibly she was the only friend he had left, period.

The look in her eyes right now was very disturbing, and things were not boding well at this particular moment. They had chained him to the floor by the wrists and neck, and someone was bringing in what looked like a plexiglass cage. Craning his head upward, he saw some sort of dark, multilegged creatures crawling around inside it. He felt fear rising in him, and struggled to control it.

“Hey Jabba,” he shouted brazenly, “you finally decide to feed me?”  
Jabba’s deep laughter overwhelmed the gleeful sounds of the many aliens chittering over their gaming tables. What were those things? They brought the cage closer to him, allowing him to see what they were as they ripped open Han’s shirt and placed the cage, which had holes on the bottom side, against his bare skin. 

They were the largest scorpions he’d ever seen. He recoiled in horror and found himself uselessly trying to kick and squirm away from the floor he was chained to.

“Sand scorpions.” Came Chiarlo’s sinewy voice at Han’s side. He gasped and jerked as he felt a needle prick in his left arm. “This antivenum will prevent any permanent nerve damage, but will do nothing to stop the intense pain of their bites. The sand people use them in the coming of age ceremonies of their young males. Many of them do not survive the test, and those who do are often rendered mindless.” 

Jabba’s personal assistant stood over Han, his evil mouth grinning down at him as the scorpions crawled across Han’s skin. Real fear took hold of him now, and he desperately tried to pull away from the cage that crushed down onto him. Almost hyperventilating, he watched as a guard touched an electrode to the side of the cage and felt the small but painful current flow through it. One of the scorpions made a squeaking noise, and struck.

It took a moment for the pain to register, but when it did it was blinding. It literally felt like fire burning across his chest. Before Han could even begin to deal with it another scorpion struck him, and then a third. Han gave up any attempt at stoicism, pride, or even awareness of anything beyond his own torment. He closed his eyes, and screamed.

 

“LUKE!!”  
Leia had grabbed his arm with a vice-like grip. He had never seen such a look of fear in her eyes before, but instantly knew, without her needing to tell him, why she had cried out.

Han was in pain. All Luke’s abilities told him that, and coupled with Leia’s particular connection and force sensitivity, Luke also knew that this was no vision of the future. This was happening right now, this moment, and it was the kind of pain that could drive a man mad.

He grabbed hold of Leia’s arms and looked at her. The force was all around her, flowing wildly out of control. He had to stay focused, and bring her into an equally focused frame of mind or they would be no good to Han at all.

They were in a remote desert settlement on Tattoine, still thousands of miles from where Han was being held. The Trafalgian ship was still in the process of assembly. He, Leia, and the Bothan contact Leia had found who had gotten them the Trafalgian ship parts had been working on it for days. It was their current occupation at this moment, the tools and equipment lying around them where they had fallen when Leia’s Force senses had hit her. Lando and Chewbacca had not yet returned from Mos Eisley with news of a completed deal. One had to go through many channels and pass many security sentinels before any offer of a deal would even be presented to a Hutt on this planet. Lando’s spy was supposed to be infiltrated by now, but they had heard no news from her yet. Wheels were in place, but they were not ready to move.

Leia however, was.

“Luke, is this real? Is this happening to him right now?”  
Luke nodded, he couldn’t lie to her.  
“We’ve got to do something!” she said, breathlessly. “They’re going to kill him! We have to do something now!” It pained him so much to see the anguish in her face. He tried to be soothing, but he had to be realistic with her.

“Even if we left right now we’d never get there in time to help him with what he’s experiencing at this moment.” 

Leia made a sound of despair and tried to pull away from him, but something occurred to him, and he held onto her.

“Leia, listen to me. There may be something we can do. Look at me!”  
She looked at him. He took her hands in his and rested his forehead against hers.   
“I need you to control your emotions, Leia, and concentrate. Concentrate on Han’s location. Let the Force flow through you and towards him.”

It seemed to calm her. The maelstrom of wild Force energy that surrounded Leia settled and centered itself at a point between them. He sensed the energy flowing from her, and from himself. He marshaled it, measuring, probing…there was something amazing happening. He had been told he was “strong” with the Force, and he’d learned to be aware of the power. But he had never felt anything like this. The combined energy of Leia and himself was dizzying. He began to reach out with it, across the desert of the planet where he’d grown up, towards Jabba’s remote stronghold beyond the dunes…

Leia’s feelings for Han were strong, and it helped guide Luke towards a room deep in the stone castle. He could feel Han’s presence there mostly because Leia could; he doubted Han would be able to feel them. But there was someone else there. Someone who could feel and use the Force, but differently than he could. He sought this presence. It was female, and young. He could not detect any darkness. Carefully he nudged at the girl. She was also in pain, but it was emotional pain. Empathetic. He offered a suggestion…

The girl was on her feet, moving towards Han. She kneeled down. She was able to touch him just for a moment. Luke took advantage of the contact. If she really was an empath, this might be a bit of a shock. Luke grabbed Leia’s arms tightly and channeled everything he could into the girl’s abilities…

Blinding, searing pain flowed back through Luke and Leia and they both cried out and let go of each other at the same time.

They sat separately from each other for a moment, breathing hard, trying to recover. Luke shook his head to clear it, trying to understand. 

Leia spoke first.  
“Luke, what was that?”  
His eyes were closed, he was trying to control his breathing.  
“A girl. Someone with Force ability.”  
“another Jedi?”  
“No,” said Luke, “Just an untrained girl with special ability, I think.”  
Leia looked at him curiously, putting it together. “An empath.” She said, a look of amazement on her face, “The Force can be used that way?”  
“There are as many ways to use the Force as there are individuals with special gifts.” said Luke. He had learned that much from Yoda, but he had not been able to see this particular gift in practice until now. The ability to sense disturbances, ripples in the Force, the ability to manipulate its binding energy to move objects, or sense the presence of others who were Force able; these were the most common abilities. But the ability to assimilate the physical feelings of another and disperse them… Luke suspected this girl was rare.

“That pain we felt,” said Leia quietly, “That was Han?”  
“Yes.”  
Leia’s eyes stared intensely out into the desert evening that was gathering outside the hangar they were working in. “Did we help him?”  
“I think so. I think we may have taken some of it away from him for at least a short time.”

 

Captain Parucha walked with the confidence of a veteran commander and the swagger of hardened criminal. She was both. Her ship, the Avenger, had a crew of 35 loyal thieves and cutthroats and two of them accompanied her now as she made her way into Jabba’s lair. 

It hadn’t been easy getting in here; Jabba was having himself quite the exclusive party. She shook her head ruefully at the gaudy decor in the hallway through which they were walking. She had respected Jabba once, in his younger days. He had been a good businessman and shrewd at political maneuvering in the underworld of spice trafficking. She had learned a thing or two from him. But he’d definitely lost his edge. 

So Han Solo was finally paying for the sins of his past. She remembered Han very well although she’d only encountered him a few times many years ago. Handsome kid. Hell of a pilot, too, but recklessly overconfident. It always amazed her how a man that smart could be so colossally stupid. In fact she’d found this to be true of many men she’d encountered in her 30 years of star travel. It didn’t surprise her a bit that Han had gotten himself into this fix.

When Lando had contacted her she had agreed to help for several reasons. She owed Lando one. He’d been instrumental in giving the Avenger a prize once long ago when they had sorely been in need of funds. Also, she liked Lando; there was another handsome devil. If she were twenty years younger… She admired his style, and his guts; Lando did things big. He waded in when the stakes were high and either lost big or won big. Either way it was a fun show to watch. And in this case she found it very interesting that he was uncharacteristically coming to the aid of a friend at great personal and financial risk to himself. In fact she did not see a way for Lando to profit from this at all. Was the man developing a heart? How intriguing…

It was as they neared the throne room that they began to hear the screaming. 

Parucha was no stranger to cruelty. She had seen things in this galaxy that had given her several of her gray hairs. But this was enough to soften even the edges of her hardened heart. Chained to the floor like a herd beast. Those in attendance who had credits riding on Han’s continued sanity sat at card tables near him. They argued with each other, occasionally looking over from their Sabacc games to check on the wretched man’s progress. It was one of the most sinister things Parucha had ever seen. Angry red welts covered Han’s torso, and he had been pulling and kicking so hard that blood ran from his torn wrists and neck. He was barely able to draw breath between screams, which had a hoarseness to them; he’d been at this for a while. He was deathly pale and drenched with sweat. His eyes were shut as his head tossed from side to side. They opened for a moment as she watched. Han’s eyes were wild looking, combining fear, rage and anguish all at once.

She and her men took a table in the corner and joined a Sabacc game with a Telurian and a Grunn. From there she could see Han’s boots as his ordeal continued. Parucha caught the eyes of her own men; she could see they were as horrified as she was. She herself was a stern captain, but she had never punished any of her crew in a way that might damage them. She couldn’t afford to lose the abilities of a crewman. With intragalactic trade the way it was, she doubted Jabba could either. She looked at him. At the moment he was enjoying the movements of a young Twil-ek dancer, seeming oblivious to Han’s suffering. Parucha’s eyes narrowed. Jabba must have deteriorated mentally to be risking the continued talents of a star pilot as gifted as Han was.

She was just beginning to wonder if she could possibly do anything besides observe, when something caught her eye. The Twil-ek had stopped dancing, and seemed to be moving in a trance towards Han. She couldn’t quite see what happened next, but all at once, Han’s boots became still, and his cries stopped. Another voice cried out—female, a long anguished scream that seemed to come as much from surprise as pain. Silence fell over the room as all looked to see what had happened. 

Jabba was enraged. Orders flew and his servants scurried about. Parucha was on her feet. Both Han and the Twil-ek appeared to be unconscious. She watched as each of them was roughly picked up and carried away.

Parucha slipped away into a dark corner; this seemed like a good time to make her first report.


	8. Escape Attempt

It was so hot. Mists seemed to rise from the street as Han edged his way closer to an outdoor caf hut where a woman was having a meal. He was so hungry. And thirsty. His mouth burned. His small hands batted at the sarc rodents that nibbled at his heels. He often competed with them for the scraps that fell from these tables. He would win today. No dirty rodent would beat him to the food today. He made himself small. He was good at that. He moved slowly, making for a chunk of cooked tuber that had fallen from the woman’s plate. But she’d seen him. Her hand grabbed his. His stomach burned as he looked up.

Leia’s face.

It was the pain that finally woke him. They had left him lying on the stone outcrop in his cell that served as a cot. He sat up, slowly, trying to take stock of himself, and trying to remember what had happened.

The welts still hurt. The pain from them was not localized, but everywhere. His whole body seemed to ache, and there was a tremor in some of his muscles. His wrists were grotesque. One of them was ominously swollen. His fingers were stiff and hard to move. The hunger and thirst in his dream were real. His throat felt raw and swollen, and his mouth was so dry that as he sat up he began coughing violently.

Now really desperate for fluids, he took the container of water left in the cell and drank it.   
There were a few weevil infested crusts of bread by the water, and he ate them. Not sure if this intake made him feel better or not, Han leaned carefully against the stone wall behind him and tried to think.

Sand scorpions. He had not been meant to survive that last game; or at the very least his sanity should not have. It was now clear that Jabba had no intention of letting him live. If this continued he would die here. 

But what had happened? He remembered pain, consuming, mind numbing, impossible pain that came over him in waves, preventing thought and logic, so he couldn’t keep himself from trying to wrench himself free from the iron bands holding him down. He shuddered from the memory. He’d begun to forget who he was, where he was, and things had been starting to run together, cold and hot becoming indistinguishable, the ceiling trading places with the floor. He’d felt as though reality were slipping sideways…and then suddenly all the pain had stopped, as though it had been drawn out of him, like poison from a wound.

Whatever had happened, he doubted Jabba had planned it. That meant that he and his guests had probably not been able to draw their wagers to a conclusion, and that was bad. Whatever was next in store for him would probably be worse, and he did not want to find out what that might be.

He had to try to escape.

He hadn’t wanted to consider the option. If he could somehow make it out of a stone fortress full of guards and force fields his chances in the open Tatooinian desert in his half-starved condition were slim to none. He had little chance of obtaining gear or water, and no planned destination or outside help. 

But he would rather die trying to get free than wait for them to torture him to death. If Han was going to cash in he would do it on his own terms.

The next time that door opened, he’d be ready.

 

Chewbacca walked beside Lando through a narrow Mos Eisley street. It was still the heat of the day, and the wookie suffered greatly beneath his shaggy layers of fur. But he thought of his captain and friend in Jabba’s clutches, and resumed an attitude of grim determination. Han could be suffering far worse than he was right now. A deep growl emitted from Chewbacca’s throat as he thought of what he wished to do to anyone who might be doing Han harm. Lando jumped at the sound and eyed him worriedly before continuing. 

He missed Han. His attachment to the man had gone beyond the life debt his home culture demanded of him. He missed the company of the human who understood his language and treated him as an equal. Most of all, he missed being with the man he trusted more than any other being in the universe. Despite all the stubbornness and foolhardiness of Han’s character, despite the dangerous scrapes Han had gotten them into, there was no one Chewbacca would rather follow. Traveling with Lando had been tolerable, but it just wasn’t the same. 

They entered a dark cantina He’d never liked this planet. There were few creatures of honor here, and certainly none in Mos Eisley. And so hot and lifeless. So different from his home world with its enormous Cashri trees and plentiful water. But he and Han had found work here with the Hutts that had brought them credits and experience. It was a dangerous way to make a living, but it had kept them fairly comfortable. Until that final, unfortunate run when that Imperial ship had intercepted them and they’d been forced to dump a shipment…they’d never had to do that before. Suddenly they were 10,000 credits in debt to one of the galaxy’s most dangerous gangsters. Han went from being Jabba’s favorite pilot to being hunted. 

They made their way to a booth near the back. Chewbacca sat and made himself comfortable. Lando nodded to him and continued to the back of the room, entering a public fresher and disappearing from sight. Some time later, a dark, robed figure emerged from the door Lando had entered. The figure walked past Chewbacca and exited the cantina. The wookie did not look up.

Now his job was to wait.

 

With all of his strength, Han slammed the blunt side of the water container against the back of the guard’s head. It worked. He went down. Han ducked as the second guard turned to fire at him, and then wrenched himself around and upward, hitting the guard’s blaster from the side and then bringing the container against the side of his helmet. The hit deflected him long enough for Han to relieve the man of his blaster and use it to stun both guards into unconsciousness. 

He leaned against the heavy metal door he had been hiding behind a moment earlier, breathing hard. It had taken every ounce of his strength and will to dispatch these two. He must not waste it. He had to keep moving. 

He yanked the jacket and armor off one of the guards and pulled it on. The head of a Grunn was generally larger than a human head, and the helmet felt a bit loose, but it obscured his face well enough to disguise him. The guards also carried canteens of water. Han took a long drought from one, and attached the other to his belt. Then he picked up a blaster, holstered it, and walked out of the cell, closing the door behind him. 

He walked as though he belonged there. Just another guard. Others passed him, snarling in Huttese. He snarled back. He’d never been so glad of his knowledge of languages. He passed a kitchen. Ducking inside, he grabbed three small loaves and an oblong piece of fruit, stuffing them into his jacket and shoving some of the bread into his mouth. The food was such a relief; his body shook as he swallowed the first real substance he’d consumed in days. 

He moved downward through the fortress. People were just beginning to awaken, and the faster he made it out of here the better chance he had. He tried not to move with too much urgency, but he almost couldn’t help it. To get out, get away… he would not go back to that cell. He craved the outside air. He wanted to look at stars without bars in front of them. They were out there right now in the night time desert sky. He would see them in just a short time…

There. An access door. It looked like the palace received its deliveries through here. Only a few guards… he might have a chance…

The blow to Han’s head was swift and heavy. He fell senseless. 

Boba Fett hauled Han onto his shoulders. He had to admit he was impressed. After suffering sand scorpions, to still have the strength to attempt an escape and get this far once again revealed the mettle Solo was made of. Which was exactly why Fett had stuck around. He had no inclination to have to go chasing through the galaxy after Han Solo again.


	9. Don't Know How we're gonna get outta this one

Lando entered a moderately ornate domed building near the center of Mos Eisley. It had taken a long bit of maneuvering and negotiating to get this meeting. Hoq Trul, Jabba’s primary business handler, was inside. The small pouch of jewels rested inside Lando’s robes. He pulled at the Trafalgian mask that fit tightly around his face, trying to relieve the tension against his jaw. A losing proposition. The thing was so uncomfortable; he couldn’t understand how the species could stand to wear it.

Like most of these dwellings, walking inside from the scorching, sunlit street required a moment of adjustment. He sought the back of the entry room. A young male Norallian sat there, peering into a computer console. He looked up, and grunted at Lando.   
“Har bodah tahboska.” Lando spoke through his respirator.  
“Ich da takosha.”  
Lando proceded through a curtain into another chamber. Hoq Trul waited there. He was a large, pale Grunn, one of the few species on this planet that was well adapted to it even though they were not indigenous. They were more or less humanoid in form, but their skins were reptilian-like, and their bodies required only minimal amounts of water even in this heat. Hoq’s vertical pupils regarded Lando shrewdly.  
“ I understand you have a proposition?”  
“I do.”  
“You have the gems?”  
“I have a sample. No full payment until we see Solo.”  
Hoq nodded, gesturing with his clawed hand. Lando produced two Trafalgian gemstones. They were octagonal, about 2 centameters in diameter. They were unusual minerals in that they formed around phosphorescent microorganisms, so they had a permanent luminescence from the inside. Their color ranged from deep greens to light blues. They were incredibly rare, and hard for offworlders to obtain. Lando had always suspected that this was because the famous Trafalgian technology was based on these stones. Jabba of course would not know that. He like most others prized them for their decadent beauty. Lando had had to liquidate a fortune, the only fortune remaining to him, to obtain them. 

He closed his eyes behind his mask. No regrets. The memory of watching Han being lowered into his city’s own carbon freezing unit like a damned piece of machinery…He had to make this right. He’d make other fortunes. 

These particular specimens were green, and Lando watched as Hoq’s eyes took in the fiery glow of the stones through a small hand lens.

“Very well. You’ll have your answer tomorrow.”  
Lando nodded, and left.

\--------------------------------------------

It was a rude awakening.

They wrenched his hands up against his back and tied them there so tightly he could barely stand it, and then tossed him back and forth across the throne room like a Jopa ball. Every time he hit a wall he was sure his shoulders would be dislocated. They struck him from every angle no matter which direction he tried to turn. He tripped on a stone outcropping in the floor and felt a sickening pain in his right ankle as he fell. He could taste blood in his mouth. He tucked his knees up as best he could, still not able to avoid a vicious kick to his chest that cracked one of his ribs. Breathing hard, spitting out blood, he managed to yell out one last try at reasoning with the giant Hutt lord,

“I’m your best pilot, Jabba! I’m worth more to you alive,” someone kicked him again, in the stomach this time. He cried out and rolled over, trying to keep from retching. He found himself hoping now, that whatever they were going to do would be over quickly. For the first time in his life he actually considered, somewhere in the wild desperation of his mind, requesting that it be over quickly…

He realized then that they were pulling off his boots. That wasn’t good.

“Your number is up, Solo.”  
They were lifting him, so his face was level with the giant, slit irised gaze of the Hutt. He could just see the young Twil-ek out of the corner of his eye. She looked at him with her large eyes. She was openly weeping. They had his feet wrenched up in the air behind him. What were they doing?  
“I can’t have my prisoners knocking out my guards and escaping from my palace without permission. Surely you must understand that.”  
“I wasn’t enjoying being your guest of honor, Jabba.” His vision was blurry, his breath came in gulps. He wished they’d just get it over with.

Jabba seemed to be addressing the rest of the room as he regarded Han with chill reptilian eyes “We need to make sure Captain Solo does not try to run away again.”

Then it came. Red hot irons were traced down the soles of both of his feet. Noise and pain filled him, and his ears seemed to ring with it. They dropped him on the stone and he rolled over and over, trying to crawl away from the pain somehow, getting up on his knees and collapsing back, finally realizing the noise in his ears was his own screaming and trying to stop. They were talking at him, all around he could hear harsh voices, but he couldn’t understand them anymore. It all swirled uselessly together. Useless. Hopeless. Why had he hung on so long? Why not just let go?

Han lay still on the floor at the foot of Jabba’s throne. Credits changed hands. It was over. Jabba’s guests would take their leave now. Han was lifted and carried back to the burning hot cell above. They deposited him on the floor with his arms still bound.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------

 

Leia jerked awake, her heart pounding. Her face was wet with tears and she was shaking. Something was very wrong. This was worse than pain. Much worse.

She wrapped a blanket around herself and went to find Luke. She found him awake. He looked wide eyed at her as she came near him. He reached out to her and she took his hand. Suddenly it was all clear; more clear than she wanted it to be.

Luke’s voice sounded strange, tight.  
“We may already be too late.”


	10. Just barely holding on

“I said, whatever deal you’re making, Honey you’d better make it fast.” Parucha’s voice came through Lando’s comlink with harsh static. “He’s in bad shape. He tried to escape yesterday and got caught. I’m not even sure he’ll last another day.”

Lando grimaced. He had isolated himself from Chewbacca for this call and he was now very glad he had. He was still waiting for Hoq’s reply. He suspected now that Jabba’s little party was over he might be more amenable to the offer they proposed, having nothing to lose and everything to gain from trading Han for a fortune’s worth of jewels. But if Han were dead before he could close the deal…

“The offer should be on its way right now Parucha. If there is anything you can do to help stall for time…?”

There was a short silence at the other end. “I’ll do what I can. I always liked you two young pirates. But I can’t risk being here much longer. It won’t look right if I don’t leave with the other gamesters.”

Lando nodded, knowing Parucha had already risked much for them. “I owe you one, old gal.” he said “Please let us know if anything changes.” He signed off. Lando leaned back against the cantina booth in which he had concealed himself, feeling defeated. He wasn’t sure which would be worse if Han didn’t make it through this: facing Chewbacca’s disappointment, or his own.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was the heat of the day, and no one was guarding the cell block where Han had languished now for nearly two months. Parucha had picked a lock or two in her time, and defusing a force field wasn’t impossible if one had the tools. This ancient metal door wasn’t going to keep her out.

She quietly stepped inside and closed the door carefully behind her. She turned to look for Han. 

He lay face down on the floor where they had left him. For an awful moment she thought he might be dead, but as she got closer she could see the rise and fall of his shoulders. She knelt down, feeling for a pulse in his neck. Weak, but definitely there. He shuddered and moaned at her touch. His breathing was shallow and way too fast. His skin was burning hot. She looked with alarm at Han’s wrists, still bound by the ropes. They were horribly swollen. He’d picked up an infection. A bad one. His blood might be toxic enough now to cause brain damage. As if to confirm her diagnosis Han shuddered again, almost convulsively. She worked quickly.

Taking a package from inside her jacket, she drew out two self disintegrating ice packs and activated them. She tucked one gently under Han’s neck, and the other in between the ropes near his wrists. She took out a syringe; a single dose of bacta. Not enough to cure him, but perhaps enough to give him a chance until the cavalry arrived. 

“I wish I could help you with these ropes, kid,” she said, injecting the dose into Han’s arm. “but if anyone finds out I was here your rescue will fall apart.” She pulled out a small canteen of water then and lifted Han’s head so she could tip some water into his mouth. Most of it came back out. She laid her hands on either side of his head, gently shaking him, speaking right into his face.

“Now you listen to me, Solo. You’ve got friends out there working to get you out of here. Don’t you die on them just when things are lookin’ up.” She thought she saw a flicker of awareness cross his closed eyelids. “You hang on, you hear me?”

She tried a little more water. He roused a little and seemed to swallow some of it. She sighed. She could do no more.

She laid his head back down against the cold pack, and silently slipped back out of the cell.

She and her men left Jabba’s palace before sunset.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jabba turned the jewels over and over in his puckered hand, marveling at their inner radiance. Hoq Trul had brought the offer in person. Trafalgian gems! 15 of them offered for a has-been pilot. He had made a nice bundle off Solo. It had also been most gratifying to watch as the spirit of such a strong willed human was finally overthrown. Most gratifying and very entertaining. If the Correlian was stubborn enough to still be alive, he’d be happy to make the trade.

He ordered Han to be placed in a bacta tank, and told Hoq to tell the Trafalgians they could come get their pilot in 4 days.


	11. Waking up with a med droid

_Han walked into the Falcon’s cockpit, taking a seat in the captain’s chair. It was so cold. Life support must have been damaged somehow. He’d have to get Chewie to check on that at their next port. He felt so tired. The star field ahead began to fill with asteroids. Mechanically he reached for the controls he knew so well. It was good to be back at the helm. But moving his hands and fingers was such an effort. It would be so good to just rest. His ship narrowly missed a huge chunk of spinning rock, and he had to bank the Falcon into a steep dive to avoid the next one. They kept coming. He kept dodging._

“Still alive…” Chiarlo breathed with relief as he felt the Correlian’s pulse beating weakly against his gnarled fingers.

He had the task of preparing Han for trade with the Trafalgians. Jabba was notorious for expecting his servants to perform tasks that were not necessarily possible to complete. His giant master had his heart set on those jewels. But Chiarlo could see that this human was close to death. His body temperature and color were not within the correct range for a human. If he failed to revive and restore the young pilot enough to satisfy the Trafalgians, he knew it would be his neck.

“Untie him, carefully.” They released the ropes, which left angry red marks against Han’s skin. The man gasped and shuddered as they brought his arms down to his sides. His hands were making strange motions. Chiarlo looked worriedly at the human’s wrists as they loaded Han onto a stretcher.

“Get him to the medical unit quickly, and tell three-one C if he doesn’t save this one I’ll disintegrate him myself.”

\----------------

 

 

Leia and Han shared more in common than they yet knew, and one of these things was an abhorrence of inaction.

Lando had returned the day before, reassuring them that their offer had been accepted, and that Han was still alive. He was evasive about Han’s condition, but he was certain that Jabba’s people would spend the time between now and their appointed trade day restoring Han to health. Three more days, and they could go get him.

So long as she had work to do on the Trafalgian ship Leia had held together fairly well. But the ship was now finished, their costumes were ready, the jewels were in hand and all plans were made. All she had to do was wait three days.

She found this almost intolerable.

Luke and Lando spent hours playing Chess. Chewie had found a secluded patch of sand by the ship’s hull that offered a view of the setting of Tattoine’s twin suns. He went there often and seemed to meditate as he sat there, his great wookie head lolling, his eyes closed, a deep rumbling emerging from his chest. Leia found some relief in going to sit near him. The sound he made was strangely comforting. She sat there now, closed her eyes and reached out with her feelings for the thousandth time, trying to find Han, sending the same message she had been sending for months.

But she couldn’t feel anything. The only times she had been able to feel something were when Han had been in extreme distress, so perhaps she should be grateful. But that last sending from him had been the worst. Because it hadn’t been physical pain: it had been despair.

She couldn’t conceive of Han giving up. She couldn’t bear to think that they might have broken him, that they might have taken away his sardonic sense of humor, his inflated image of himself, his maddening tendency to be right about everything… She wanted him back intact, all of him, every irritating bit of him.

She pounded her fists into the sand and stood up. Luke had warned her against walking too far into the desert, so she had taken up a long circular pattern of laps around the ship. She took this path now, keeping her feet in motion, trying to keep her mind from going too far in any one direction.

\----------------------------------------------------------

 

Han awoke to the feel of cold metal against his skin and painfully bright lights in his eyes. It felt like the worst hangover he’d ever had. He was reminded of his cracked rib as he tried to take a deep breath.

So he was alive. He tried to process that.

How could he still be alive?

Turning his head to one side, he tried to focus. Something moving…a long robotic arm, holding a needle… he winced as it was plunged unceremoniously into his arm.

“You are awake. That is good.” A metallic voice spoke.

Han worked his tongue around his mouth, surprised to find enough moisture there to swallow. He realized there were restraints on his arms and legs. They needn’t have bothered. He had no strength at all. He could barely move his head.

“What’s going on? Where am I?”

“You are in the medical center of Jabba’s Palace. You have been in a bacta tank for two days. You are being prepared to be traded to a group of Trafalgians.”

Traded? So that explained the medical care. His luck had come back. This might be his way out.

“Jabba is trading me to Trafalgians?”

“That is correct.”

“For what?”

“I do not know the details.”

The robot was attaching a bag of fluid to the IV in Han’s arm, and checking a console that read out Han’s vital signs.

Trafalgians. Han had dealt with their kind before. They were perfectionists. Very difficult to satisfy. This might be a way out but it would not be easy.

“When is this trade taking place?”

“The human must be ready for the trade tomorrow.”

Han tried to absorb that. If the Trafalgians wanted a pilot, they would expect one in good health who could walk out of here under his own steam.

He took stock of himself. He looked down at his wrists. The swelling had gone down, but he could still feel heat emanating from them. Two days in a bacta tank would certainly help cure a systemic infection, but it was not enough to finish it off. A week would have been more like it. He tried to move again, now able to remember his injured ankle, and the burns on his feet. The bacta had made a difference there, too, but walking without limping was going to be a challenge.

He looked at the robot. A standard medical droid, but it looked as though he’d had his memory erased once too many times.

“Three One C, is that your name?”

“That is correct.”

“How am I doin’, Three one C?”

“Your condition is fair. Your body temperature and blood toxicity levels are 2% higher than normal for an average human. Your body’s chemiosmotic levels have been compromised. I am attempting to compensate.”

Han waited a few beats.

“I need a blanket and a good meal, Three one C.”

“The human is receiving required nutrients through an IV.”

“I’m going to need solid food or I won’t have the strength to walk out of this palace. You’re also going to have to let me get up so I can practice walking around.”

“The human must not be allowed to escape.”

“The human needs a nerf steak and some stewed tubers and a chance to stretch his legs or the human will collapse on his way out of the throne room, your master’s deal will go sour and you’ll be melted down for scrap!”

Three one C regarded Han with his unblinking white orbs. The robot cocked his head slightly. Han glowered back at him.

“I will see what I can do.”


	12. The Rescue

They were finally moving. Leia, Luke and Lando made their way across the desert towards the great stone fortress, their dark robes and masks concealing them completely. Chewbacca remained behind in the Trafalgian ship, a standard kilometer behind them. They had agreed early in the planning that it would be best if Chewie did not accompany them to Jabba’s palace. They could not be certain of his reaction to Han’s situation, however they found him. A rampaging wookie would certainly ruin their plans. In any case, Chewbacca could not possibly pass for a Trafalgian. Trafalgians simply did not grow that tall. Chewie was unhappy with the decision to say the least. But he dutifully stayed behind.

They entered without incident. Luke walked behind Lando, reaching into the corners around them, alert for trouble. He did not sense anything now, but the palace held the flickering aura of recent high energy chaos. There had been many primitive souls here recently and the residual life force was intense…and dark. A diffuse darkness, but dark just the same. 

He reached forward as well, seeking the presence of the empath female. They had decided not to risk contacting her again as they had before. It was very possible they had done the girl great harm in using her to help Han, both in causing her physical pain and getting her into trouble with her master. Luke could feel her now, a small point of light in this dark place, in the throne room ahead of them. Her energy was erratic. She was frightened.

Lando lead the way inside. They walked up to Jabba, bowing in unison.  
“We have come for Solo.” Lando spoke in Trafalgian. Hoq Trul stood beside Jabba, and translated.  
“You have brought the gems?”  
“We will see our pilot first.”  
“very well.”

A servant left the room, and returned, followed by three Grunn guards, and Han Solo.

Luke was grateful for his mask. He was certain the reaction on his face would have given them away had Jabba been able to see it. To all appearances Han seemed whole. Clean shaven, wearing a flight suit with Huttese insignia on it, he walked unaided into the room, his eyes forward. But anyone who really knew Han could see he wasn’t quite whole. The flight suit did a good job of hiding it, but it was obvious to Luke that Han had become terribly thin. The suit was fastened up to his chin and buttoned down past his wrists. Gloves covered his hands. Luke suspected this was designed to hide healing wounds, and could yet make out a fading bruise across Han’s right temple. His walk was measured, careful, not the confident gate Luke remembered. He was so pale, except for some faint color across his now too prominent cheekbones. His eyes glittered, but Luke wasn’t sure if this was from determination or delirium. Han did not look in their direction, but kept his eyes fixed on Jabba.

Luke glanced at Leia. She stood stock still next to him. It was a very good thing Chewbacca was not here.

“Here is your pilot. Where are my gems?”  
Lando produced a small leather bag from inside his robes. “We will inspect our pilot first.”  
He approached Han, who turned to him.   
“You’ve come a long way for my services.” Han said coolly.  
“Your abilities are well known. We require a pilot who can assist in evading Imperial patrols. It is said you are the best.”  
Han nodded “You heard right.” Then he seemed to consider for a moment. Luke caught his breath. He’d seen that look in his friend’s eyes before…  
“But I’m only the best because I work with the best.”  
Lando stood for a moment, “What is your meaning, Captain?”  
Han looked with fierce determination into the eyes of the Trafalgian in front of him. Luke realized with horror what Han was about to do. It was a crazy, altruistic move. Just the sort of move someone might make if they believed themselves to have nothing to lose. Just the sort of maddeningly stubborn, desperate move Han always made.

“I recently lost my copilot. I require a new one.”  
Luke had to admire Lando’s self control. He was a gambler to the core, and betrayed nothing by his body language or vocal delivery.  
“We will provide you with a new one when we reach Trafalgia.”  
“No one chooses my copilot but me, and I’ve already chosen someone.”  
Lando looked from Jabba back to Han. “Whom have you chosen?”  
Han walked steadily towards Jabba’s throne, and pointed to Ulee. “This Twil-ek.”  
The room fell silent, as Han turned to look at Jabba, who looked down at him with huge, narrowed irises. 

“You don’t even like her that much. With the jewels you’re getting from this trade you can buy a human female.”  
“What is the meaning of this Jabba?” Lando had approached the throne. He was forced to play the role of the flustered Trafalgian. Luke and Leia approached behind him.  
“Your deal won’t go through if she doesn’t leave with me.” Han’s voice was strong and steady, his eyes continued to glitter as he glared fiercely up at Jabba. They seemed to be engaged in a staring contest. Luke watched nervously. It could all fall apart right here. He looked at the girl, who seemed as worried as he was, looking back and forth between Han and the Hutt Lord who held the other end of the chain around her neck.

Han had a long history with Jabba. Longer than many in the room knew. He had made his claim, and seemed to know that now it was all or nothing. He would not back down. The giant Hutt regarded him, and seemed to be considering his position. 

A deep sound began to resonate from deep inside Jabba, until it resolved itself into great guffaws of laughter. He tossed the end of Ulee’s chain in Han’s face.  
“No guts, no glory, Solo! Always liked that about you. I am well pleased with this finale to our business relationship. Take your blue woman copilot.”  
To the Trafalgians, he said, “You’ll find the girl is in good condition. I cannot vouch for her flight experience, but I’m sure she has skills that will serve your new pilot well!” He could barely finish the statement for the laughter burbling darkly out him.

Luke, Lando and Leia made a show of gathering together to discuss the new development and whether or not it was acceptable to them. After a suitable interval they returned to the throne area, the exchange was made, and the three Trafalgians, the pilot and the freed slave girl made their way out of Jabba’s fortress.


	13. Final Chapter

Han stumbled just slightly as they made their way from the throne room, and Ulee attempted to take his arm. He quickly pushed her away.  
“Don’t.” he whispered “If they see any sign of weakness, we’re both cooked.”

They might be cooked anyway. Han had no idea how far they would have to walk to get to the Trafalgian ship, and in his condition, he was going to be lucky to make it out of the palace.

Three one C had loaded him with painkillers, which helped with his injured rib and ankle, but they also had the effect of making him dizzy and unsteady. The infection and low grade fever were still present, and he was very weak. He’d wrapped both of his feet tightly before pulling his boots on, but walking with his full weight on them, even with the painkillers, was becoming fast unbearable.

They were nearing the great door to the fortress, which raised as they approached, revealing the desert beyond. It was dark as they stepped outside, and Han finally had his first taste of the cool free air of the Tattoinian night.

He looked up at the stars. This fortress was far from any of this planet’s cities, so the night sky was pitch black and the stars shone and twinkled like bright beacons. It affected him more strongly than he’d expected it would. He still did not know the fates of Chewbacca, Luke or Leia, and as he looked at the immensity of the universe spread above him it came home to him how alone he really was. He would try to find them. He would at least find out what had happened to them, even if he had to hold the Emperor hostage to do it.

The gentle weight of a hooded robe was laid across his shoulders, and a Trafalgian respirator voice spoke in his ear. “The desert night is cold. You will need this. We have a long walk ahead.”

Great. Han steeled himself, and began to walk.

He moved mechanically, trying to disconnect his mind from the growing fire in his ankle. For the first half kilometer the terrain was rocky, but at least it was firm underfoot. As they moved into the dunes and his feet began to sink, Han felt himself beginning to falter.

It couldn’t end like this. He couldn’t get this far and then be dragged back to that hellhole by three dissatisfied obsessive-compulsive Trafalgians. Although, he wondered about these three. They behaved differently than most Trafalgians he’d met. The cloaks they had given them; Trafalgians were not known for their particular care of employees. And they seemed to walk in such tight formation around them. Did they suspect some adversary would spring up out of the sand and take their prized pilot from them? It was odd. They walked close to him almost as if they sought to protect him; almost as if they were concerned for him, and this did not fit with his experience of these people. 

His condition was deteriorating and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The ankle was only part of it. His body was in no condition for a prolonged hike. His head throbbed and his vision kept blurring. A light sweat covered him as he labored forward. The injuries he’d forgotten about were re-inflaming themselves and the pain in his ankle each time he put weight on it was becoming impossible to bear. He kept stumbling. They couldn’t have missed it. But as his steps slowed, and he looked one last time up at the stars, they kept silent beside him. 

“How much farther is it?” Han managed to say.  
“Not far captain. Another half kilometer.”  
No. He wouldn’t make it. He closed his eyes, hoping for one last bit of luck.  
“I may need some help…” and he fell forward—

\--into the arms of friends.

\-----------------------------------------------

 

Ulee watched in amazement as they caught the Captain and lowered him gently to the sand. One of the smaller ones opened the staff he’d been carrying into a stretcher and placed it beside Han’s body, and the three of them lifted him onto it with such care it brought tears to her eyes. They wrapped the cloak around him where he lay. She felt love here, and concern. How could that be?

One of them came to her and touched her. A bolt of warm white light seemed to enter her mind, and the memory of great pain also. She stared wide eyed into the mask of the Trafalgian, not understanding.

“It’s all right. Come with us.” The voice was electronic but the words were kind. He produced a small silver knife from a hidden pocket, and carefully placed it between the skin of her neck and the collar she wore. In seconds the collar was gone and she was finally free. This was the presence that had touched her before, when the captain had been suffering from the scorpion bites. She recognized the feel of him as though the features of his face were fully revealed to her. He was kind, strong, and the most powerful being Ulee had ever encountered. 

The other smaller Trafalgian was bending over the fallen captain, caressing a lock of hair from his face. The other tall one touched this one’s shoulder, hurrying him. “They could still be watching. We must move on.”

The four of them lifted Han and carried him across the sand to the waiting Trafalgian ship. As they came into view, Ulee started as a great, furred warrior emerged from the opened gang plank. The deep growls emanating from this creature felt welcoming but anxious to her, terribly, terribly anxious. The Trafalgians stopped as he came upon them, seeming to know him and to understand his need to wrap his enormous arms around the captain, as though he were embracing a long lost child.

They did not tarry long, and soon were inside the ship, where the Trafalgian masks were finally removed and Ulee was able to see the human faces of her rescuers. 

It would take Ulee, a fully functioning empath, a very long time to recover from that moment.  
\----------------------------------------------------------

 

Soft. There was something soft under his head, arms, legs… he felt warm, but not feverish. Something warm rested against his arm. There was a hum of ships engines—the sound of a working hyperdrive. Not the Falcon’s, but a starship anyway.

Han slowly opened his eyes, his memory catching up with his awareness. A blanket covered him, and had been tucked around him. A medical console blinked at him, showing him his own heartbeat, blood toxicity, body temperature…objects came into focus. He turned his head to the side and saw something that lead him to believe he must either be dead or dreaming.

Leia’s soft cheek rested against his elbow. Her hands encircled his arm as she slept. He was on his back in a sick bay bunk, and she was sitting next to him on a stool. He stared at her in complete disbelief, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell he was under that had taken him from a place that was all harsh sand, stone and roughness where he’d been inches from death to this place of warmth and safety.

It couldn’t be real. He stared at her, taking in the features of her face, the dark tendrils of hair that had come loose from her braid and fell over her eyes, the gentle rise and fall of her back as she breathed. It couldn’t be real. He had worried about her for so long, wondering how he would ever be able to find her again if she were even still alive, and suddenly here she was. 

“Leia?” her name choked out of him through the growing lump in his throat.  
She opened her eyes and looked at him, slowly raising her head. He reached over with his free hand, touching the side of her face, still not believing. She covered his hand with hers.  
“It’s all right, Han. You’re not hallucinating. It’s me.”  
He couldn’t speak. He pushed himself up, rolling his legs off the bunk, shakily balancing himself against the edge. She didn’t try to stop him, or tell him he should take it easy and rest. She stayed close, and allowed him to pull her near to him.   
“It was us, Han, behind the masks and robes...”  
His hands touched her arms, her hair, cupped her face…  
“…Luke, Lando and me. Lando brokered the whole deal.” Her voice faltered. “I’m sorry it took us so long.”  
His arms were around her crushing her against him. His head dropped against her shoulder.   
He was home.


End file.
